


what, me who?

by colonellaurens



Series: you're an open book but i can't read you [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adult Themes, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Making Out, Pining Keith (Voltron), Season 8, heavy s8 spoilers so read at your own discretion, it's the sunset scene guys, sorry no porn this time around lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 00:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17090687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonellaurens/pseuds/colonellaurens
Summary: If someone else was here, they’d tell me that I deserve my own love story. But what kind of fucked up romance is this, anyways? He doesn’t love me. Not in the way that matters. (I hate thinking about this. Why does everything have to be about Lance? Because he refuses to let you forget that he’s there? Because his personality is just that loud? Because he’s like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for so long? Because he is the sun, and everyone around him is justdrawnto him, like a moth to a flame?)I’m trying not to think about it, but it’s hard. I guess I’m scared. Where would I be without him? WhereamI going to be when he decides he’s done with me? It feels like the weight of the world is bearing down on my shoulders, making my shoulders slump and my leg dangle off the side of Black’s head.I can feel the wind as it blows all around me. This is something I missed, too. There’s really no other place like Earth in the whole galaxy. But I guess that makes sense. I just hope I get to come back.“Man, you can be a real hard guy to find when you wanna be.”





	what, me who?

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys just wanna let you know that in docs this was titled "season 8 was GARBAGE so im writing this to cope" because it's the truth! i thought of this immediately after seeing the sunset scene (we all know that there was no heterosexual explanation for that scene right???)  
> also i'm having too much fun with this series like honeslty fwb klance is like........good  
> this series is sort of like. a preamble to this large multichapter fic that i've been sort of writing behind the scenes. idk if i'll ever post any of it because i am so bad at multichapter stuff but. we'll see  
> anyways have fun with this

We’re here. We’re back on Earth.

I don’t know how to feel about this. When we’re helping with rebuilding efforts, everything seems like it’ll be alright. It keeps my hands busy and my mind doesn’t have time to wander. It’s been a while. At least, what, three or four years? At least for me. For everyone else on Earth it might have been five. Or just two for the Paladins after that whole _rip in the fabric of space time_ mess with Lotor. I don’t know, time dilation _sucks._ I just know that I’m older than Hunk and Lance now. Well. Older than I should be.

Speaking of Lance...well, what is there to say? That I wish we were as close as we used to be? I messed that up. I was too scared to lead Voltron, so the _moment_ Shiro — or, well, fake Shiro — was able to pilot the Black Lion again, I ran off. Like a coward. Because I am. It was all too much. It still is, sometimes, but I think I’ve learned to deal with it. Leading isn’t exactly _easy,_ especially when you have a whole race of people looking to _you,_ the only part-Galra paladin of Voltron.

I don’t know. Sometimes I wish Shiro never went on that Kerberos mission. If he hadn’t, wouldn’t things be sort of...normal?

Wait, wait, no. Scratch that. That’s stupid. If he never went on that mission, that means I’d still be in the Garrison, and Matt and Sam Holt probably wouldn’t have gone without Shiro, which means Pidge would have no reason to run away to the Garrison and be listening out for alien radio chatter, and I wouldn’t feel the need to study energy anomalies in the area, which means—

The Galra would have invaded _years_ ago. Because of the Blue Lion.

There’s probably some alternate reality where Shiro never went. Where the Galra invaded before we even knew alien life existed. But there’s also another reality where the Galra are replaced with Alteans, and where Shiro is actually _Sven_ and has a weird accent. (Or maybe Sven already exists in this reality too?)

 _Ugh,_ I’m starting to sound like Slav. Shiro would be disappointed.

Still...it’s good to be back. It’s weird having to work with the people at the Garrison, who sort of grew up avoiding me, but I want to believe we’ve moved past that. I know that Rizavi, Leifsdotter, and Kinkade are more or less chill, but, uh, Griffin is a different story. I think. I guess when Lance left, he became the best fighter class pilot in our year? He was always kind of a dick to me. Shiro always told me to avoid him if I couldn’t control myself if he insulted me. It’s not _my_ fault if he deserved to be punched in the face for being an _asshole._

But that really doesn’t matter now. It’s not even the first thing I think about when I see him. I only remember when I see him sending me looks, but even then, _I don’t care._ I think we’re _well beyond_ childish fights like that.

I feel myself sigh before I realize I’m doing it. Cosmo nudges my hand with his nose, so I reach up to scratch him behind his ear and the part of his face that I know is his favorite spot. He leans into it, and I can’t help but smile. This weird space wolf is one of the only things keeping me sane sometimes. I’m glad I met him in the quantum abyss. He’s the one thing that didn’t immediately try to kill me in there.

I turn my gaze towards the horizon. Cosmo and I are watching the sunset from the top of Black’s head. It’s all so familiar that I can almost pretend I’m 17 again and none of this ever really happened. The shape of the canyon is still the same, even though you can still see the crater that Shiro made when he crash-landed back on Earth. It adds charm to the place. Like this canyon has seen some shit. (Which it has.)

It just reminds me of Lance. _God,_ why does everything have to lead back to him? I don’t want to say that I missed him while I was gone, but I did. I really did. But only because almost every time that _fucking light_ hit me, it was a memory of Lance. Or, well, it had Lance in it. My mom saw the first time we kissed. Drunk off space alcohol, in over our heads. I was absolutely _mortified._ But she didn’t seem to care. At least she didn’t see anything _more_ than that.

But every time he came up, my chest ached. I missed him. I didn’t admit it to myself at first because I was scared of what it might mean. If I missed him, _what next?_ I already knew I loved him, I just wasn’t sure if I loved _Lance_ or _Lance’s blowjobs._ I know he’d never want to date me. What was I expecting when we landed back on Earth? That he’d hold me in his arms and ask if I wanted to go for ice cream after the day’s work? That he’d ask me if I’d come to his house for dinner tonight? Absolutely not. He’s had a _huge_ crush on Allura since day one, and _that’s fine._ I’m not about to stop him from getting with the woman of his dreams.

Besides, I’ve known for a long time that it’s fine if all I get is to admire him from afar. I get it. I’m not exactly _boyfriend material._ We’ve never been boyfriends. We’ve never been anything more than just friends who liked to get each other off sometimes. That’s enough for me. What would he even say if I went over for dinner, anyway? Hi mom, hi dad. This is my boyfriend, Keith. He used to be my rival but then I fell in love with him because I’m stupid and I like people I shouldn’t. Oh, and he’s part Galra. You know, the alien race that almost destroyed Earth and probably scarred you for life? Yeah. But don’t worry, he won’t try to kill you because he’s here for dinner which means he’s just that important to me.

Stupid. He’s too good for me. He deserves someone better. I don’t want to think about what’s gonna happen between us after we leave Earth again tomorrow. I think he’s still mad at me for leaving. _You left, Keith. Maybe you should have just stayed away._ That’s what he said. We’ve never talked about it. I still don’t know if he meant it. (I hope he doesn’t.)

If someone else was here, they’d tell me that I deserve my own love story. But what kind of fucked up romance _is_ this, anyways? He doesn’t love me. Not in the way that matters. (I hate thinking about this. Why does everything have to be about Lance? Because he refuses to let you forget that he’s there? Because his personality is just that loud? Because he’s like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for so long? Because he is the sun, and everyone around him is just _drawn_ to him, like a moth to a flame?)

I’m trying not to think about it, but it’s hard. I guess I’m scared. Where would I be without him? Where _am_ I going to be when he decides he’s done with me? It feels like the weight of the world is bearing down on my shoulders, making my shoulders slump and my leg dangle off the side of Black’s head.

It’s quiet. I try to focus on how peaceful it is here instead. For the first time in years, I’m not worried about something trying to kill me. Not here, at least. It’s weird, how much I’ve gotten used to the fact that I could die at any moment. I’d be okay with it. It’s not _death_ I’m scared about. Everything, all throughout the universe, has to die sometime.

I can feel the wind as it blows all around me. This is something I missed, too. There’s really no other place like Earth in the whole galaxy. But I guess that makes sense. I just hope I get to come back.

“Man, you can be a real hard guy to find when you wanna be.”

I know it’s him. _Of course_ it’s him. I heard him grunt with effort as he heaved himself onto Black’s head. He’s clattering, too.

“Hey Lance,” I say, barely giving him a sidelong glance. It makes me do a double-take. “ _Whoa!_  What...are you wearing?”

He looks dumb. It looks like he raided the kitchen like a little kid preparing for battle. He’s wearing his Garrison uniform, yeah, but there’s a pan and a ladle strapped to his hip like a shield and a sword. He’s wearing two identical pots on his shoulders (I don’t even know how they’re staying on there) with...what looks like curtains acting like a cape under them — _and_ he’s wearing a dented metal bucket on his head with the handle under his chin like it’s the strap keeping his hat on. Not to mention the fact that it looks like he wrapped his legs with gauze, put on some shorts, and slapped some oversized socks and a pair of rainboots over his feet. And to top it all off, there’s a string of sausages around his neck like it’s a scarf. He makes a noise that’s halfway between a sigh and a groan, and he looks a little...embarrassed. It’s cute, the way he tries to pretend he’s not.

“Coran made it for me for my date with Allura,” he says, annoyed. I watch as he sits down next to me.

My heart sinks.

A date with Allura. Right.

My mouth hangs open for a second, but I force myself to speak. “A date with Allura?” I say, but it sounds more like a statement. More like I’m trying to make sure I heard that correctly. I know he’s looking at me, but I stare at the pan now resting on his leg. I try to look mildly impressed, and, well...happy for him. Because I am. I should be. “Wow!” I look up at him then, “Well done, Lance.”

I shove whatever it is I’m feeling to the side. I need to be here for him _as a friend._ That’s why he’s here. To talk as friends.

“Thanks,” he begins with a brief smile, “but it could be our last.” He takes that stupid metal bucket off of his head and sets it aside. He looks...tired. Worried. I don’t know. He’s not looking at me. “I can’t keep all these Altean customs straight.”

He reaches up to nervously rub his wrist. My smile falls. I hate seeing him like this.

“Listen,” I say before I even know what it is. “If she’s going out with you, it’s because she likes you.” I look at something else for a moment, then my eyes are back on him. “The annoying, stupid, Earth...version of you.” I smile to let him know I’m kidding. Mostly.

He laughs at that, and I can see some of the tension slowly seep out of his shoulders. It feels good to know I made him feel even a little bit better.

“You watching the sun set?”

I can’t help but smile. “Yeah. Might be a while before we get to see it again.”

There’s a pause of comfortable silence as we take in the brilliance of the oranges and reds streaking across the sky, staining white fluffy clouds like watercolors. I try to take in as much as I can before it’s gone.

“Man,” he begins with emotion in his voice. “I’m really gonna miss this place.”

Now this? I can deal with this.

“That’s why we’ve gotta end this war.” He doesn’t say anything, so I go on. He needs a little push of reassurance. “And we’re gonna do it with the Lance that’s the Paladin of the Red Lion.” I pause, choosing words as they come. “The Lance who’s always got my back. And the Lance who knows exactly who he is,” I look up at him with what I hope is a reassuring smile, “and what he’s got to offer.”

He looks back at me with a strange look on his face, like he can’t believe I’m the one telling him this. It’s somewhere between shock, incredulity, and relief. But that melts into an expression of gratefulness. He’s thanking me with his eyes, and I can tell he’s feeling better with that small smile he gives me. I look at him for a moment longer, then I tear my eyes away to look at the sunset.

He’s silent then, and for a second I think he’s done talking. But he’s still looking at me. I can feel him tense up beside me and I prepare myself for another one of his doubts. He has a lot of them. I’ve always tried to be there for him when they come up.

“What...what about you?”

I blink. Then blink again. Did I hear that correctly? It makes me frown. I look him up and down, but for once he’s completely unreadable. The question throws me off so much that Cosmo nudges my hand to make sure I’m okay. (Good space wolf.)

“What _about_ me?” I shoot back warily. I don’t want to think about where this is headed.

He chokes on his words then and gesticulates wildly with his hands. He’s not looking at me anymore.

“Y-You know! Like...I just—I don’t know, you just —” he cuts himself off with a groan and rubs his face like he does when he’s trying to put his thoughts into words. I usually tell him to spit it out, but this time I wait patiently for him to think of the right way to convey his thoughts. He huffs and conclusively rakes the same hand through his hair.

“How—how do _you_ feel?” He looks pained. His hair is sticking up everywhere.

I clench my jaw. It’s an old habit, I can’t help it. It’s not surprising that he asked me how I feel, since he’s always doing that with everyone. Checking up on us, I guess. I just wasn’t expecting him to come out and say that after the conversation we just had. It makes me look away. I stare hard into the metal head of Black.

“I’m—uh, happy for you? I guess? Lance, what kind of question—”

“ _Keith,”_ he cuts me off before I have time to say something stupid. “You _know_ what I mean. Don’t avoid the question.”

I do. But I wish I didn’t.

“I, I don’t—” I try, but the words die in my throat.

Then he puts his hand on mine where it’s resting on the metal of my lion. My eyes snap to our hands, then to his face. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just a small gesture, he does this with Hunk and Pidge all the time. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just supposed to be reassuring.

“Please,” he says, and his voice is so soft and sweet and gentle that my chest _aches._ He’s gazing desperately at me, looking a lot like a kicked puppy. It takes everything I have to keep my resolve from crumbling. “You can be honest with me.”

My heart is pounding away in my chest. I try to look indifferent. “Why?” I ask, trying to speak around the sudden lump that formed in my throat. This is dumb. I know it is. I can’t keep pining after a boy who won’t like me like that. It’s probably not healthy.

“I want to know how you feel,” he says like _I’m_ the one causing _him_ an internal crisis.

“I already told you.” I can’t look him in the eye. I look at his left eyebrow instead. “I’m happy for you. Congrats on finally getting a date with the woman of your dreams.” I try to make it lighthearted, but it comes out wrong. A little too forced. I try to take my hand out from under his but he’s quick to hold onto it. He squeezes, and I can tell he’s at a loss for words with the way he stares down at our hands.

“How do _you_ feel about it, Lance?” I’m frowning. I know I am. This seems like some sort of sick joke, to come to the guy who sucked him off the other week and ask what he thinks of his new _girlfriend._

He looks up at me, surprised. His brows are raised and his eyes are wide. His lips are hanging open. I want to kiss him. I really do. His lips are always so soft and pliant against mine. It’s one of the best feelings in the world. I want, but I can’t have. And that’s fine.

He gapes like a fish for a second. “I’m happy for me too — I mean, uh, I’m glad I asked her because, like, I was sort of mad stressed about it but Hunk didn’t let me back down? So I asked her to have dinner with me and my family tonight and she said yes, so I think that’s a win. Yeah. It’s a good thing. She’s—yeah.” He presses his lips together to keep himself from rambling more than he already has. I take a breath.

“Then that’s good. Like I said, well done, Lance. It’s not every day you land a date with a ten thousand year old alien princess that’s definitely out of your league.”

“ _Hey!”_ he shouts indignantly, and for a second I think we’re past this whole _feelings_ thing. “I know she’s out of my league, but so are you!”

Why. Why is he this way.

“Right.” I roll my eyes. “Except you’ve never managed to land a date with me. Great job,” I deadpan.

He sputters, gesturing wildly with his left hand (the one that isn’t currently holding mine). “I didn’t — _Rude!”_ is what he finally manages to say. Amazing. He’s always had his way with words. I’m practically swooning in my seat.

“What are you gonna do about it, Loverboy Lance?” Cosmo nudges my shoulder. Like he’s amused by the whole thing.

Lance huffs and gives up on whatever he was trying to say. “Just — look. I always considered us rivals.”

“Oh?” I say, sarcastically. “You mean the rivalry you made up? I had no idea.”

He gives me a look. I can only smile back.

“ _Like I was saying._ I’ve always considered us rivals, but I never stopped to think _why.”_ His left hand comes up to toy with the hair around his face. The fading sunlight illuminates him in a gentle, golden glow. Like he’s a saint. (Because he is.)

“I…” he hesitates. Not a great sign. “I can’t remember why I thought we were rivals in the first place.”

“Didn’t you hate me?”

“No!” His answer is immediate. My eyebrows shoot up. “I never,” he lowers his voice, looking at Cosmo, “I never hated you.”

“I didn’t either.”

He looks up, surprised. I’m surprised too. I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, it’s _true,_ but I still didn’t expect to blurt it out like that.

“Huh,” he grunts, like he’s realizing something.

He’s looking at something else now. There’s something on his mind, but I turn back to look at the sun slowly setting over the canyon anyway. His hand is still on mine and I can’t bring myself to pull it away. It’s too soothing. This might be the last time he touches me like this for a very long time. I’m trying to live in the moment here.

I don’t get him. It’s like every time I think I know how he feels, he goes and changes his mind. I think at one point, I might have had a chance with him — but neither of us acted. I think it might have been when Shiro disappeared. Were we too scared? Probably. I know I was. I didn’t want to mess anything up by being with him. I couldn’t jeopardize the team because I wanted a boyfriend. I was still figuring everything out. I think I’ve got it figured out now, but it might be too late. He’s rubbing little circles into the back of my hand now. It’s so tender that I feel like I might cry. How did we even get here, anyways? Why do I love him so much?

“Don’t grind your teeth.”

I turn to look at him and I feel my jaw loosen. We lock eyes and it feels like everything stills around us. When I’m looking at him, it’s like the rest of the universe ceases to exist and all there is, is Lance. My breath catches in my throat.

“I’m...I’m sorry.” He bows his head when he says it. I wet my lips.

“What are you sorry for?”

He squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what he says next.

“You deserve better.”

All my breath leaves me in a rush. I see him slump forward. At some point, he turned his body to face me, so all I can see is the top of his head as his hair falls forward to cover what little I could see of his face. I shift to face him like he’s facing me. He pulls my hand towards him and cradles it with both of his. His fingers dance over my knuckles, gentle. Tender. I don’t have my gloves on, so it makes sense that he’s more touchy than usual. I’m at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry, you—you’re a great guy, Keith. You really are. You don’t...have to be okay with this. I get it.” His voice is soft. I can feel the pain in my chest return tenfold. He’s just too much. “You’re allowed to hate me because, like, _yeah,_ that’s fair — I would hate me too! After everything we’ve been through, and I just—I’m acting like a dick, but you deserve to feel love _too,_ and—”

“ _Lance.”_

I mostly say it because I don’t want to hear any more of this. I don’t want to hear that I deserve love, especially not from him. The other part of me says it because it feels like he’s crumbling right in front of me and he needs something to pull him back together. He looks up at me and there’s tears in his eyes. It’s far from the first time I’ve seen him cry, and I know it won’t be the last. But something in me aches when I see that first tear slide down his cheek.

I reach up with my other hand and I wipe away his tears with all the gentleness I can muster. It’s…it’s what he deserves. I hate myself for doing it, but I really can’t help it. I cup his cheek.

“Hey,” I say. “It’s okay.” He looks like he’s about to say something else, so I shush him. “Listen. You’ve had a huge crush on her since the moment you laid eyes on her. _And_ since she forced you to your knees within the first thirty seconds of knowing you.” He looks like he’s about to object, so I hit him with, “I was literally there. You were practically swooning. But _finally_ likes you back! Are you gonna let her just slip away after all that?” I give him a smile because I know he needs it. He returns it. He lets out a shaky sigh and leans into my hand.

“I know.”

We fall into a comfortable silence. I don’t let myself feel any bad emotions. Not right now. Not when Lance needs a shoulder to cry on. I let my hand fall from his face and I shift back to face the setting sun. So does he. We’re still holding hands. I feel him wriggle closer to me until we’re flush against each other and he has his head on my shoulder. We watch the sun slowly sink down below the horizon, not moving, not speaking — simply existing. I don’t let myself think of the future. It’ll just ruin the moment.

Cosmo rests his big head over my legs and nudges our hands with his nose. He’s such a big puppy sometimes, I swear. Lance lets go of my hand and gives Cosmo affectionate scratches between his ears. I give into the urge to rest my arm over Lance’s shoulders and I feel him lean into me immediately.

God, I missed this. Just _existing_ next to Lance, not thinking about saving the universe for a second. Yeah, he has a date with Allura tonight, but I don’t hate her. I don’t hate _him_ either. I’m just glad he’s finally happy. It’s what he deserves.

The sky is filled with deep purples, pinks, and reds by now. We can’t see the sun anymore, just the remnants of light it left behind. It stains the clouds with gentle colors that eventually all shift to grey as soon as the sun is completely set. It’s a relatively clear night. Since the city’s gone, there’s hardly any light pollution to drown the stars out. The only thing creating light around here is Cosmo. The stars eventually show themselves and Lance...he starts pointing out his favorite constellations. Cassiopeia. The Little Dipper. (He calls it that, not me.) He says if you squint you can almost see the Andromeda galaxy from here. I don’t see it. But he’s having fun so I don’t try to ruin this for him.

It goes on like this. He points at several other constellations as they appear. At one point, he turns around and excitedly points at Mars. It’s amazing how he knows all of this. This is the happiest I’ve seen him in a while, though I can just barely see him by the blue light of Cosmo’s space wolf fur. It’s a new moon tonight. That’s why you can see the stars so well from here.

At some point, he settles down. He took off the rest of his silly “Altean” wear a little while ago. He doesn’t have real pants on, so he’s probably cold. He’s gonna start complaining about it soon. I can sense it coming.

“Hey Keith?” Here it comes. He’s still leaning against my chest, and my arm is still slung around his shoulders.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

There it — wait. _Wait._ That’s not what I was expecting. I...I have no idea what to say. I want him to. I always want him to kiss me.

But he has a date with Allura tonight.

Is this right? Should I give in?

Before I can make a decision, Cosmo gets up and stretches like a dog with a big yawn. He nudges me towards Lance, then he teleports away. I feel myself laugh. Shakily. Does my _dog_ want me to get laid too? This doesn’t feel real.

But it is, and I can feel Lance holding his breath in anticipation. Waiting for me to answer. I look at him. He’s not looking at me — he’s staring into the canyon.

“Yeah,” I say like I’m out of breath. It’s darker with Cosmo gone, but I can just about make out the shock in his eyes when his head snaps up to look at me.

“Yeah,” I say it like I mean it this time. “You can.”

Then it’s like he doesn’t know what to do. Like he just asked if he could kiss me for the first time and didn’t expect me to say yes. I’m waiting for him to make the first move. I’ve never been really good at initiating things like this (but I know he loves when I do). This was his idea. I’m going to wait for him to kiss me even if it takes all night.

Except he doesn’t kiss me. Not immediately. He even has the nerve to even look bashful. I bite the inside of my cheek — I think he’s second-guessing all of this. That’s understandable, seeing as he _literally has a date_ in a few hours.

“You don’t have to,” I say because he looks like he might actually die. “It’s okay.” His head whips up to look at me.

“No, Keith, I—” he cuts himself off. I try not to blink too quickly, but my eyelids flutter anyways. He presses his lips together; his eyes are darting all over my face. They pause on my lips. I reach up and run my fingers through the short hair at the back of his head, how he likes it. He practically _melts._

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking down.

“What are you apologizing for this time?”

A chuckle bubbles out of him before he can stop it. “I don’t know. God, Keith. It’s like I think I finally know what I want and I _think_ I have it, but then—I don’t know, it feels like it all comes crashing down.”

He huffs and slumps forward, resting his forehead on my chest. Actually, he’s pushing his entire face into me, like he thinks I won’t be able to see him if he buries himself deep enough in my shirt.

“All it took was one kiss and it felt like the world was turned upside down.” His voice is all muffled against my chest. I know what he’s talking about. The first time — when we stole a bunch of space alcohol and drank a bottle between us in his room back on the Castle of Lions. He definitely kissed me first, but he says it was a mutual effort. He even called me pretty. I told him that was pretty gay. He says he doesn’t remember any of that. Dirty liar. It was a _bonding moment._

“I think it was more than one kiss, Lance.” There’s a cocky smirk on my lips. He looks up, sees it, and scowls. It’s still so easy to get a rise out of him.

“Shut up, mullet,” he says, but I know he doesn’t mean it.

“Then make me.”

He raises a brow, his right one. The one he can move independently from the other. I can see him connecting the dots in his head. Yeah, it’s a challenge, Lance.

He shifts a bit. He’s leaning towards me. His left hand reaches my cheek first — he’s thumbing over the mark on my cheek. I can feel the blood rush to my cheeks and I don’t need him to tell me I’m blushing. (Embarrassing. I’m, like, 22 and I still can’t entirely keep my cool around him. He’d laugh at me if we were younger.)

My left hand — the one I had in his hair — snakes down over his chest, stopping right about where his heart is. It’s beating wildly. He’s still frowning, but I can tell that he wants this as much as I do. He shifts again and moves until he’s basically half-straddling me, one leg between mine and the other on the outside of my left thigh. I swallow. His other hand makes its way to my hair, and as much as he makes fun of it, I know how much he likes how long my hair is. He’d be so sad if I ever wanted to cut it. (Which I don’t.)

Then he leans in, and it’s like everything is alright. Like we’re still in the Castle of Lions and he’s piloting the Blue lion and I’m still in Red and everything is still _simple._ My eyes slide shut and I can feel how soft his lips are. (I know he exfoliates them. He tried getting me to do it once, but it just hurt. How brave of him to endure such pain for soft, kissable lips.)

At first, he’s slow — careful. Like he doesn’t want to scare me away. My hands settle on his hips and suddenly he’s kissing me like it’s the end of the world. (He’s still so dramatic. The familiarity of it is mildly comforting.) The hand in my hair pulls me closer to him and _god,_ I’m really going to miss this. I grip his hips and I hear him sigh into the kiss. I don’t want to wonder if he’s just using me to get off one last time. I really don’t want to think about that. Lance isn’t like that.

He’s not. He’s kind and passionate and impulsive and a great pilot and — one _hell_ of a kisser, that’s for sure. It’s like...he’s good without even trying. Because he’s _Lance._

He breaks the kiss then and he leans back far enough that I can see his lips are wet and really, _really_ kissable. He looks at me like I’m his only lifeline, like he’s desperate for more. And he is. This time, I’m the one gripping the collar of his Garrison uniform and pulling him back in for another bruising kiss that I’m trying to burn into my memory. I tilt my head, our teeth clack together, and I’m already breathing hard through my nose, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

One of my hands reaches down to squeeze his ass and he makes this strangled sound that _does_ things to me. (I swear. Has he always been able to drive me crazy like this?) He pulls my hair — well, it’s more like he grips it — and I know. I know what he wants.

He pulls away again, but our foreheads are still touching. His breath is hot on my face. He has a hand on my cheek and his thumb is rubbing little circles into my skin. It feels like Lance is the only thing right now. Everything is Lance; Lance is everything. It’s not as jarring as it should be. I can make out that his eyes are almost closed and his eyelashes flutter every time he blinks. I think I know what he wants. My dick does, anyways.

Then he leans in again, but his lips are soft. He’s kissing me softly. It’s such a sudden change of pace that I try to kiss him the way I was a moment ago, but he fights me on it and I can’t help but relent. Then _I’m_ the one kissing him with all the tenderness of a lover. He’s running his fingers through my hair as he kisses me and _god,_ it feels really nice. These kinds of kisses are dangerous. They can make you feel like the most precious thing in the world, like you’re the one that matters the most to the person you’re kissing. It’s part of the reason I realized I was in love with him.

I don’t know why he’s doing this. It’s not what I was expecting by a long shot. I thought, maybe, he wanted to get off. At least, that’s what my dick is thinking right now, half hard in my pants. It feels like even my _boner_ is confused, like it doesn’t know what to do.

This is the kind of kiss you’d give your boyfriend when you wake up to him in the morning or when you’re about to go to sleep for the night. It doesn’t make sense because (a) we’re not boyfriends, (b) we didn’t just wake up to each other nor are we going to sleep together, and (c) _there’s nothing sexual about it._

Don’t get me wrong, it’s _nice._ I wouldn’t mind staying up here all night, kissing Lance like we have all the time in the world. But he has a date and he has no business staying up here to neck it with me. Especially if it’s not to get me worked up enough to suck his dick as a token of friendship before his very big date with a very pretty girl.

I think it’s meant to be soothing. Probably. I should _let_ myself be soothed, then.

He pulls back slowly, languidly. I look up at him and he’s smiling...sweetly. Almost too sweet to be the Lance I know. (But maybe this _isn’t_ the Lance who usually kisses me like there’s no tomorrow. I don’t know how to feel about that.) He puts his hands on either side of my face and I can see his blue eyes flicker back and forth between my own.

I see him lean in again and I prepare for another kiss, except —

He doesn’t kiss my lips. He’s kissing my cheeks, my nose, my forehead, and even my eyelids when I eventually close my eyes due to this _onslaught_ of kisses. He’s peppering my face with them like he’s personally giving me freckles. (Angel kisses, my dad once called them. They really do feel like it. I can’t help the fact that I’m smiling while this is happening. It makes me feel...really happy.)

Then, with a final peck on the lips, he stops.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I’ve just always wanted to do that.”

It makes my heart leap to my throat. He...always has? Why hasn’t he? It was really nice. I sort of wish he’d done it before. But before I can say anything, he shifts until he’s entirely between my legs, he turns around, and he just plops down with his back against my chest, like he belongs there. (He does.)

He wriggles around a little and — he can _definitely_ feel that I’m still half hard in my pants, the bastard. He must be too. But he’s not doing anything about it. I’m a little more than mildly confused.

But we fall into a comfortable silence. If this is what he wants to do, who am I to question it? His hair smells like L’Oreal mixed with, I guess, the smell of greasy hair. But his hair isn’t greasy at all. It’s almost perfect. Like always. Lance makes himself comfortable in my chest, wiggling this way and that to find the perfect spot. He’s like a worm. Always wiggling around. It’s almost endearing. All I can do is watch the night sky, our breathing perfectly in sync. I didn’t even notice that happened.

“I think I was jealous,” he says quietly.

“Hm?”

“Back at the Garrison.” That makes me look at him. I think my mouth is hanging open.

“Why?” is what I manage to say. It’s all I _can_ say. What would he have to be jealous of? I was the delinquent who was kicked out for disciplinary reasons. (I punched someone in the face and Shiro wasn’t there to save me.) I can’t think of a single reason for him to be jealous of that reckless, asshole-ish version of myself.

He shifts in my arms, turning to look at me. “You were everything I wanted to be.”

My breath catches in my throat. He says it with such earnestness that I feel my heart clench in my chest. _Of course._ It makes sense. I was the best pilot of our class — fighter class. Lance was stuck being a cargo pilot while some snotty kid with anger issues got to play the fighter pilot. He was a great pilot. He still is. I think he always has been, but I just didn’t acknowledge it.

“Hey,” I say softly, “look at where you are now.” I gesture vaguely to the scene around us. The stars are still glittering above us and the canyon is nothing but an abyss of soft darkness. We’re shrouded in that same darkness, but it doesn’t feel suffocating. “You’re a _hero,_ Lance. You helped save Earth.”

I look at him again and I can see that his gaze is fixed on my chest. He’s smiling that grateful smile again, but he still looks a little worried about something. “Yeah,” he huffs with soft laughter, “I guess it doesn’t really matter now, huh?”

It looks like he wants to say something else. There _is_ something else. Lance always wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s easy to tell when something’s bothering him.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” I say more than ask. “You can tell me.”

“Keith, what if I’m just a rebound for Allura?” he asks suddenly. I look at him, brows drawn together. I’m probably frowning. “I mean, after everything with Lotor — she just seemed so crushed. And now, with this new Altean here...I dunno, maybe she reminds her of him. Romelle said her name was Luca or something, not to mention the fact that they’re both from the colony. Allura probably doesn’t want to think about him at every turn. If I were her, I _definitely_ wouldn’t want to be thinking about the guy who created a colony for the last of my people to live on only to drain the life out of some of them every year for _literal generations!”_ He falls quiet, still not looking at me. “I’m being dumb about this, aren’t I? I’m idealistic because—”

“No! You’re—” I huff. “You’re not being dumb. I think...it would make sense.”

His shoulders slump. I don’t need to look at him to know that he’s wringing his hands together. He was going to say that he’s idealistic because this is the first time Allura’s shown interest in him and his stupid monkey brain can’t help but pounce on the opportunity to date her. I get it. I would feel the same way if Lance loved me back.

“...But Allura wouldn’t do that to you,” I finish. “She’s not like that. Like I said, she probably just likes the...stupid Earth version of you.” He his head to look at me. I give him a reassuring look. He smiles.

“You forgot ‘annoying.’”

Alright, yeah, he’s got me there. He earned the laugh that bubbles out of me when he said that.

“And annoying.”

We fall silent again. He turns back around to gaze over the canyon, leaning back on my chest again. One of my hands snakes around his middle, careful to dodge the spots where he’s “definitely not” ticklish. His hand meets the back of mine and he intertwines our fingers with a practiced ease. Like it’s second nature. I look up at the stars and wonder how much time has passed. The stars have definitely shifted in the sky. Lance should go soon.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Keith.” He says it so quietly that I’m not entirely sure he said it at all. Just to be safe, I pretend I didn’t hear anything.

“You should probably go,” I say instead. “You stink.”

He huffs with laughter. “You don’t exactly smell like daisies either.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one with a _date,_ Lance.”

He sits up so fast it gives _me_ whiplash.

“ _Shit!”_

He forgot. Of course he forgot. I don’t even bother trying to hide my smile.

“‘Shit’ indeed, Lance,” I tease. He stands up (and almost _falls_ off my lion, Jesus Christ) and gathers up his pots and pans, and — _oh my god,_ he’s not actually going to wear _that,_ is he? He’s struggling so much. This poor boy.

“Lance, just ditch the kitchen armor!” I say with a laugh. “Remember — she likes the annoying and stupid _Earth_ you, not the Altean you. You’re not even Altean!”

He pauses. “You’re right. _God,_ Keith, do you have to one-up me at everything?” He’s grinning and lets the metal kitchenware fall into a messy, clattering heap on the top of Black’s head. He’s already trying to climb down.

“Always.” I’m returning the grin. “Don’t fall on your way down.”

“When have I ever _fallen,_ Keith?”

I raise an unimpressed brow at him. I like to believe he’s fallen for me at least once. But he probably forgot about _that,_ too. “Just don’t die.”

Then he’s gone.

Maybe this is alright. I don’t feel as bad as I thought I would. Maybe I’ll just deal with Lance as he comes because he’s like the human embodiment of a hurricane. Part of me knows what he wants and what he does when he’s here, but the other, larger part of me is still surprised when he comes around.

I’ll be here, anyways.


End file.
